


Don't Wait Up

by consult_the_potato



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, F/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers might be a virgin but it's a lil ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25023874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consult_the_potato/pseuds/consult_the_potato
Summary: “Thank you, for the dance. The kisses too, but mainly the dance.” Steve says playfully, voice soft as anything as he smiles up at you. You swear, you haven’t seen that goofy red-stained smile leave his face since you made it that way. “Oh, so I’m a better dancer than a kisser?” You ask, the smile evident in your voice as you cross your arms at him.“You said it, not me.” He laughs, leaning out of the way of your arm swinging out to playfully hit his shoulder. “No, I...I very much enjoyed both, I promise.” Steve soothes, a softness in his warm gaze that makes your stomach flutter with nerves. “I did, too.” Nodding, you bite into your smile, looking down at your shoes instead of up at him as you consider your options. The blond ahead of you clears his throat, turning slightly, “Well, I guess I should--”“Would you like to come in?”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93





	Don't Wait Up

You were halfway through your first drink by the time you started to feel comfortable in the dance hall, still wary as you watch the growing crowd from your place at the edge of the floor. You were, admittedly, not much of a dancer by nature, but when a few of your friends had offered to take you out for some fun, you’d decided to tag along and try to do just that. What you didn’t expect (though, maybe you should have), was those same friends tagging along together to create dance partners out of one another, leaving you to give coy waves and piddle around by your lonesome near the bar. 

That isn’t to say you were alone, however. The bartender was a nice lady, a woman just above your age, who’d complimented the fabric of your dress as you’d slipped her the tip for your drink and given her a likewise smile. There were also the few gentlemen leaning up against the bar by your side, some of whom had given you a generous look-over that you weren’t quite tipsy enough to return, offering only a bashful smile in return, which was met with gentle smiles and nods of _good evening to you miss,_ as they turned away to scour the hall for a possible date. Then, even still, there was the mousy blond man tucked away against the wall just a few paces away from the bar, nursing a beer as he stares off at a couple laughing on the dance floor. He’s small enough, you think, that even if he’d not been pressed against the wall as he was, he would blend into the scenery easily, had you not been looking for similarly lost souls.

He seems to notice you around the same time you do him, taking an extra second to be sure your eyes are truly meeting with his own in the dim edge of the room, and he smiles a surprisingly warm grin your way, one dimple prominently on display as he looks your way. Even if he may be small--only a couple of inches lower than you, even in your heels--he’s a handsome man, if the warmth in your cheeks at that smile tells you anything. You take a long sip of your drink, willing a bit of courage your way as you take another step closer to him, smiling sheepishly. “Ah...having a good evening, mister?”

The blond’s eyes widen just a little, and you’d swear there’s an instant of surprise in the gaze he gives you, but he looks bashfully down at his feet as he stands up a little straighter. “Y-Yes, ma’am. And yourself?” He looks up at you with softness in his features, the hint of that smile still peeking through as he asks the question. You nod with a little embarrassed laugh, “Well, good enough, I suppose. I...was led here to dance, but it seems my friends are enjoyin’ their _own_ company.” Motioning your head back toward the floor, you shrug a little, stirring your drink with its straw as you meet his eye again. He still has an air of slightly-taken-aback, almost as if he didn’t think you’d start chatting him up when he smiled your way. You take another sip, feeling a little awkward yourself as you look down into the glass. 

“Funnily enough,” He starts gently, mimicking your shrug but with a nonchalant smile this time, starting to lift his bottle to his lips again, “I’m, uhm, in the same boat. My friend comes here with me, but he stays for the dames--women. Ladies, I mean.” Clearing his throat, his own cheeks start to flush red as you look down at him, hiding your amused smile with a final sip of your drink. He glances away, taking the moment to smooth down his hair and take his own drink, grimacing at it when he thinks you aren’t looking before meeting your eye again, remembering something. 

“I-I’m Steve.” Wiping his palm at the side of his pants, he offers it out to you politely. You take Steve’s hand, smiling sweetly as you give him your own name, shaking his hand before releasing him. Steve’s fingers clench and unclench at his side, betraying his nonchalant demeanor as you turn to look at the crowds behind you. You swear, as you turn your head to look at him again, that he’d just had his beer bottle to his lips and was drinking greedily from it, but he smiles at you innocently with only a nervous, but warm, gaze. 

“Would you..like to dance? I don’t do it much, but...would you like to?” Steve asks, moving to put his (definitely more empty) beer down on the bartender’s counter, reaching to take your glass and offer you his hand with the same motion. You titter an anxious laugh before handing him your emptied glass and he sets the thing beside his own drink, his smile growing when he turns to face you again.   
“I think I’d like to, as long as you don’t mind sore toes tomorrow morning.” Taking his hand, you grin and relish in the laugh he gives. “I could say the same to you, if I’m honest.”

It’s your turn to laugh, genuinely this time, as he leads you to the floor. Although it may be true that you’re both novice dancers, and may end up with some sore feet after the dance is done, you’re still interested in your choice of partner. As you move together, his hands taking yours, his gaze seems to catch on someone past your arm, giving a little head shake and an almost-angry furrow of brows before pulling you closer with an innocent grin. “Ah, s-sorry. My friend’s, uhm...excitable.” Steve glances again at whoever is behind you, and you turn over your shoulder to find a grinning brunet with a dark-haired woman on his arm, shooting you both a thumbs up before turning his attention back to his date.

Steve’s flushed and shaking his head when you look at him again, laughing, “Excitable, and an _idiot_.” 

“Well, at least your friend pays attention.” You reply, your thumb brushing gingerly over his fingertips as the two of you start to move. “I’m not even sure my friends are still here, let alone where they are.” You look around, cringing as your focus is lost and you find yourself barely missing the toes of your dance partner with your two left feet. “S-Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve soothes, his gaze soft as he meets your eye. He stops moving altogether, shaking off the attempt with a squeeze of your hands in his before leading you into a real dance this time. It lasts only a little longer than your first attempt, but he’s looking at his feet more than you, glancing to you to judge your reaction as his eyes scan fellow dancers for theirs as well. “Steve,” You whisper, reminding him of who he’s got in hand and you both slow to a stop one more time. 

“Sorry, I...I said, I don’t dance often. Height difference and all.” Releasing your hand, he rubs at the back of his neck with his own, and you’re pleasantly surprised at the pink dusting his cheeks. 

“I don’t mind it.” The words are simple from your mouth, but he looks at you with a furrowed brow of confusion, his once-smiling lips straightened in uncertainty. Your name leaks from those lips in a sigh, and you double down on your sentiment by extending him your hand once more. “Steve, I don’t mind it. I want to dance with a nice fella. Would you let me?” You tilt your head at him a little as you ask the question, brows quirked as you gaze down at him. Steve’s brows knit together and he looks down, and you almost think you’ll be forced to make the walk of shame off the floor, but that pout looks back up at you with a quiet, “You’re sure?” 

When you nod again, he slowly reaches to take you in his arms. The band strikes up a slower tune this time, some of the couples around you already swaying by the time you put your hand on his shoulder and his hand on your own waist. You can swear there’s a tremor in his fingertips, but he seems to only hold to yours a little firmer, a smile spread across his cheeks to show off that dimple once more. 

The awkwardness between you fades as you both start to really move, and you glance down at your feet, just to be sure you’re being careful enough. When you move to look him in the eye again, his gaze is already fixed on you. Steve quickly glances away, clearing his throat, but his rosy cheeks give him away and now it’s _your_ turn to focus on him. He’s a handsome man with a good build, his palm gentle against yours as you sway with him. Even with the sharp features of his face, you can see a slight softness in his cheeks, a similar plushness in his lips as your gaze falls there, and you’re rewarded with a sheepish grin as you come to realize you’ve been ogling him for far too long to be subtle. You turn your gaze downward again, only to hear Steve huff a laugh. 

“Sorry, ah...not used to beautiful women like you lookin’ at _me_ like….well, like you do.” He seems to get a little brave as you laugh, embarrassed, still unable to look at him. Trembling fingers betray him as he lifts your chin and encourages your gaze back upward. “You like what you see?” Steve grins a little more now, cheeky even as his blush creeps to his ears. 

“Fresh!” You almost gawk at him, unable to stop your laughter as you playfully hit at his shoulder. He laughs with you, an honest chuckle that is so hearty, it nearly knocks him off-kilter. “Excuse me, do I have the wrong impression?” Steve looks at you with something you might call smugness in his smile, brows quirked in an expression that mocks concern, knowing your answer by the flush that spans across your cheeks before you are even able to say it aloud. 

“Well, what if I _do_?” You tease back, and it almost takes him by surprise, his wide grin faltering just slightly at the question. “What if I d- _do_ , uh...like what I see?” You ask with a little more detail this time, the gentle swaying between the both of you now more comfortable than it had been at the start. Smiling, you quirk your brows, waiting on him to answer. 

Thrown for a loop, Steve stammers a little, coughing a nervous laugh (and much-too-nearly sending himself into a coughing fit), “I-I’d, uhm...I guess I would tell you the same. If that’s what you think.”

“You do?” You ask, playfulness in your voice as you take your hand from his shoulder, smoothing it over your skirt (and trying not to smirk at the way his eyes follow your digits back up to the waist of your dress), “And here I thought this old thing wouldn’t get me noticed at all.” Your fingers ghost over his own at your middle, and you could swear that you catch a quiet gasp coming from his lips at the touch. 

“No, I noticed.” He breathes, his gaze taking its time as his eyes travel back up to meet yours, his ears red as he smiles at you. “I noticed, and I think I’m glad I did.” Taking a chance, he twirls you once, his hand landing neatly at your hip when you return. You seem to be closer this time, you think, and whether it’s your fault or his, you’re not sure. “You think?” You tease, but the way he’s looking at your lips and back up to meet your eye does not go unnoticed. 

You move slow, closing the gap but allowing him all the time in the world to pull back. Instead, he stands firm, eyes now trained at your lips as you lean down to him. He leans up, closing the gap as his lips press to yours, seeming to relax as your hand comes to rest on his cheek. The liplock deepens as soon as it's made, your tongue grazing against his bottom lip and his mouth opening greedily to allow more of that touch. When you finally pull back for a breath of air, you’re unable to stop the smile that spreads your cheeks at your lipstick tinting the area around his lips. 

Steve’s smiling right back, breathless as he chuckles and clears his throat. “Uhm...wow,” He laughs, crooked grin putting those dimples and the new stain at his mouth on display, but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind, instead looking at you once more, like he’s willing to risk it all once again with another kiss. “I...Can I kiss you again?” He breathes, and you’re already crashing your lips into his once more, your chest pushed against his own as his hand on your hip grips you closer. It would almost be embarrassing if anyone were paying attention, but you really couldn’t care less, losing yourself in the gentle lip nibble Steve gives as your mind starts to wander. 

“Walk me home?” You ask as you pull away, your voice barely above a whisper that surprises even yourself. Steve’s brows fly up his forehead, his (now more red and mussed) mouth opening to question you before closing with a nod, still-wide eyes searching your face for any semblance of uncertainty. “Lead the way.” Steve nods, and he swears his stomach flips as you take his hand and lead him from the dance hall. Unseen by you, he turns to find Bucky, waving for the man and hoping the _don’t wait up_ is implied enough by the red grin plastered across his face.

\--

The walk home in the warm summer breeze is nice, your hand still in his without much thought on either part. It’s a short trek from the hall to your apartment building, with you standing on the porch and him on the steps just below, looking up at you a little more than he needed to before.

“Thank you, for the dance. The kisses too, but mainly the dance.” Steve says playfully, voice soft as anything as he smiles up at you. You swear, you haven’t seen that goofy red-stained smile leave his face since you made it that way. “Oh, so I’m a better dancer than a kisser?” You ask, the smile evident in your voice as you cross your arms at him. 

“You said it, not me.” He laughs, leaning out of the way of your arm swinging out to playfully hit his shoulder. “No, I...I very much enjoyed both, I promise.” Steve soothes, a softness in his warm gaze that makes your stomach flutter with nerves. “I did, too.” Nodding, you bite into your smile, looking down at your shoes instead of up at him as you consider your options. The blond ahead of you clears his throat, turning slightly, “Well, I guess I should--”

“Would you like to come in?” You interrupt, not entirely meaning to, but not wanting him to go away all the same. He stills, turning to face you with curiosity in his gaze as he looks your direction. “I’d had to’ve had you walk me all the way home and make you go all the way across town back home.” You say, the excuse admittedly not a good one. He seems to pick up on it, furrowing his brows at your and moving to cover the smile with a hand at his chin, shrugging a little. “I really don’t mind, you know.” He counters, and you almost think he’s being sincere about leaving until you catch the mischievous smile, hidden by his hand but completely obvious in the look he gives.

“Really, I could just--” “Come _in_ , you bozo.” You grin, reaching to take his hand in both of yours and tug him up the last few steps to the porch. You relish in his laugh as he stumbles up the stairs and into the doorway with you, and you tug him closer as you push your building’s door closed with your free hand. When you turn to look at him with a laugh, he’s already smiling your way, reaching to carefully push a lock of newly-unpinned hair back behind your ear. “Well, I’m in.” Steve’s fingers linger at your cheek before curling away, the question of _what now?_ in his tone of voice.

You consider for a moment, looking over the man where he stands, and the both of you have a moment of clarity in the similar realizations of _‘I didn’t think I’d get this far’_. He smiles, raising his brows expectantly as he crosses his arms and leans back against the wood of the door, curious and waiting. 

“If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to invite you up for a nightcap...and a few more kisses.” You admit, smiling at how ridiculous you feel at being so bold. His brows fly up his forehead, his own smile wavering as he looks at you, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink, “Really?” 

You giggle quietly, taking a few of the stairs and leaning on the banister as you nod to him. “If you don’t mind, of course.” You remind, feeling the heat on your own cheeks as you look down at the man. He’s still leaning up against the wood frame, untangling his arms from one another and letting them fall to his sides with a soft sigh. 

Steve reaches for the banister and as you turn your head to look where you are going, he takes your hand. You smile at the warmth, looking back at him over your shoulder as you entwine your fingers in his. “You’re sure about a nightcap?” He asks softly, not wanting to bother your neighbors as the two of you creep past a few of the doors along the hall to your doorway. “You keep asking if I’m sure,” You start in a whisper, tugging him closer so he can hear as you lean on your apartment door, fingers slipping into your shoe to pull the nicely-tucked-in key out, “But I’m starting to wonder if _I_ should be asking _you_.” Teasing, you quirk a smirk his way, giving him the chance to bid you a final goodnight as you unlock your door. 

Instead, he surges closer, almost-clumsily pressing his lips to yours and pushing you against the wood of your door. You gasp against his mouth, gripping him by his collar and pulling him closer as you kiss him hungrily, blindly stepping backward into your living room as you open the door behind yourself. Steve follows you in, his steps uncertain on the unfamiliar floor but his lips not once straying from your kiss. 

You pull away first, laughing quietly as you push the door closed and flip the lock. He glances around your apartment and you smile, shrugging almost bashfully. “This is, uhm...home.” “It’s cozy.” Steve smiles warmly at you, innocently looking around. You reach for his hand, your fingers gingerly brushing against his own as he diligently follows where you guide him. “So, uhm..what’s your poison? I haven’t got beer like at the bar, but...” Smoothing your palms against your skirt, you crouch to the cabinet below your sink, rattling off the few things you have left from before they became hard to find. “A little whiskey, some rum, and a piss-poor vermouth.” Your description of the last thing shakes a laugh out of Steve, who leans over your counter to look at you, smile still spreading his cheeks. 

“It can’t be that bad,” He challenges, and you smirk as you raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Do you really want to find out?” Steve seems to think for a moment, but you decide for him that you’d rather not deal with that bad aftertaste when kissing him goodnight, reaching for the bottle of rum and gently kicking the cabinet closed as you stand again. The blond notices you deciding for him, a playful indignance in his gaze before it settles to warm fondness as you step on tiptoe to grab two glasses. 

“Cheers, Steve,” You smile over to him after pouring both glasses and pushing his toward him. “To new friends.” He flashes you a grin, the dimple in his cheek proudly displayed as he taps your glass with his own.   
“To more kisses,” You smile boldly, sipping from your glass as you slip out of your heels, leaving them on the linoleum floor as you step back around the counter to meet Steve on the other side. With your shoes off, he can tell you’re just nearly his size, maybe an inch taller yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “What was that?” The blond asks cheekily, smiling as you take the fingers of his free hand and guide him toward your living room.

“What, I can’t be hopeful for new friends and more kisses? Is that so wrong?” You ask, unable to hide your smile as he lets out a genuine laugh, the sound warming your chest. “I guess not. I cheered to it, too, so I suppose I’m just as guilty.”

“See!” Laughing, you say it as though it was something obvious between the two of you, and he laughs again as he settles into one of the cushions of your couch. You can see he’s still a little tentative of being in your space, and you situate yourself beside him as you sip on your drink. He remembers the one in his hand and he takes a sip, tongue grazing at his bottom lip as he lowers the glass once more and holds back the grimace you know he wants to point at the glass. You find yourself watching the motion of his tongue across his lips and the bob of his throat as you take another mouthful of rum, your eyes flitting to his and realizing he’s watching _you_ too, the tension between you rising as neither pair of eyes quickly flit away. He clears his throat, lifting his chin just slightly as his gaze stays on you, curious and warm in a way that has you realizing all at once that maybe you didn’t _need_ the extra shot of courage, the warmth in your belly from more than the rum. 

Still, you glance away as you finish your drink, and hear him clear his throat once his glass is empty, feeling him shift forward to put the thing down on your coffee table before leaning back into the plush back cushion of your couch. Steve moves again to get more comfortable, and you feel his eyes on you as he stretches one arm along the back of the couch, the tension lingering between you both. “Thank you again, for the drink...And, uh, for the dance tonight.” He takes you by surprise as he brings it up again, and you look up at him, surprised to find a sincerity in his gaze. “Seriously, I enjoyed it. You’re not too bad on your feet, you know.” Steve admits, smoothing his hands down his pant legs as he smiles over at you. You giggle, a little bubbly as you put your mostly-empty glass on the table next to his. 

“I could say the same about you.” You play coy as you reach over, putting your hand atop his own where it rests at his thigh. Steve looks at you, searching your features as you see his throat bob from the corner of your eye, pretending not to notice. “You’re a sweetheart, really. It makes me wonder if that ‘I don’t dance often’ bit was all a ploy.” Teasing, you glance up at him with a smile, and he starts to laugh a little, and maybe would have responded, if your both of your hands hadn’t just picked his hand up from where it had rested against his leg. 

You grow only more warm with your proximity to Steve on the couch, turning his hand in your own as your fingers brush against his palm. He seems to be affected too, his knees falling slightly further apart as he relaxes back against the cushions of the couch, one knee lightly knocking against where yours have pressed together to turn yourself to face him. You only smile in response, eyes finding his as you shift even closer, your legs tucked up onto the couch as you lean into him. “You know, I learned some palm-reading, to pass the time,” You lie, “Do you, uhm...want to know some things?” 

“Sure, anything.” He whispers, his baby blues boring into your own eyes, laced with curiosity. When you look down at his palm again, stroking your thumbs over his slightly-rough skin, you feel rather than see his gaze go over your features, and a blush starts to creep up your cheeks at the attention, remembering what you were doing as you look at his hand. 

“W-Well, your life line is...strong,” Steve hums in acknowledgement, still looking at your face instead of your hands, “It says you’re, uhm...bold, in your actions. This,” You look up to catch him staring, his cheeks a little pink as you tap his hand to draw his attention to that instead (it only works a little, as his gaze now travels back up to your face) “Is your head line. It’s a good length, which means you’re...smart, and strong-willed. Sometimes to the point of stubbornness.” He laughs a little with a nod, his tone disbelieving yet interested, “I get told that pretty often...You see that, just in my _hand?_ ” “Shh,” You quiet him, and he smiles knowingly at you. You fear that he’s starting to catch on, but...maybe you aren’t too far off in your made-up reading. 

“This one is your love line. It’s, uhm...long, which is good.” Your eyes stay latched to his palm, feeling the way his gaze travels over your features, taking you in. “I-It means you’ll find longlasting love.” Your gaze flicks up to meet his, feeling the flush growing on your cheeks under his attention. He’s already looking at you, eyes trained to your lips as you speak, his only slightly parted as he breathes. Steve meets your gaze, nodding to you as he sits up a little further, his free hand coming to rest at your upper arm, just below your sleeve, “Go on.”

“It, uhm..” You smooth your thumbs against the man’s warm palm, feeling his other hand tremble as it slides up your shoulder, thumb stilling at the place where the fabric and your collarbone meet. “It doesn’t come without its faults. You’ll have… there are always complications, with love.” With his hand resting there, you’re sure he’ll catch the way your heart is thudding against your chest, determined to shatter ribs in its wake, but he doesn’t let on. Instead, he watches you with softness, a gentle warmth-turned-heat in the edges of his gaze. “But, you are firm in your affection. A-Ah...foolish, easy to fall, yet passionate. That’s something that is very tricky to balance.” Steve’s hand now rests at your cheek, and you know he feels the heat underneath his fingertips. He’s red, too, his own boldness surprising him. Maybe it’s because you weren’t outwardly watching him move closer, you think, but _oh_ did you feel it.

“You can’t have gotten all of that from my hand.” He whispers, and you relish in how close his lips are to yours, his words lingering on the air between you two. “Well, I didn’t.” You smile, and the crinkle in his eye confirms he knew all along, but it’s...somehow easier, you think, to feel things for someone when they aren’t watching. Your fingers run lightly against his digits, your hands still joined as he finally cups your cheek. “I suppose you didn’t have to,” Steve huffs a laugh, shrugging a little, “A girl agrees to dance with me, I follow her home like a lost puppy. Pretty foolish, I’d say.” 

“But, passionate.’ You complete his sentiment, closing your eyes and leaning into his warm hand. It trembles, if barely, as his thumb brushes lightly at your bottom lip and you kiss it once, a chaste thing that makes him gasp all the same. When you look at him through your lashes, you find his gaze trained at his thumb on your lips, and you kiss once again, his eyes flitting to meet yours. Something in the pit of your stomach encourages you, and your tongue flicks from between your lips, wetting the pad of his thumb as your eyes stay trained to his. It’s a challenge, maybe, or even a promise. Either way, you feel the press of his thumb against your lip and you close your lips around the digit, sucking lightly at the tip as he inhales sharply, his hips shifting as he watches you. _“Oh.”_

You’re moving before you actually realize you are, and as his thumb rests against your tongue, your knees now rest at either side of his hips, your skirt pulled up just enough for the lace hem to brush against your thighs. You worry for a moment that Steve’s smaller self won’t be able to withstand the weight of you straddling his lap, but his now-freed hand lands at your waist to pull you the rest of the way, a groan escaping him as you push yourself down against him. “Y-You’re sure, about this?” He asks in a pant, looking up at you with a mix of concern and awe as he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You nod, one hand coming to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the other cupping his jaw, “I’ve wanted to kiss you like this all night, Steve.” 

A needy whine escapes him, and you swallow another as your mouth crashes against his. Steve’s arms go rigid for a moment, hesitating before both of his hands come to grip at your hips, thumbs pushing into your hipbones. It’s your turn to moan, the sound joined by another as you grind your hips against the hardness at his lap, his mouth falling open in a gasp. You pepper kisses away from his lips and to his jaw, shifting more of your weight to your knees as you feel him rock his hips against you, quiet moans leaving his lips with every thrust. You would wonder, if he’s not danced much with other women, how experienced he is in this area, though the way he squeezes your hips with each thrust makes you forget to ask.

“Shit, _shit_ \--” He swears, and an excited thrum goes through your belly at hearing him, your lips pressing searing kisses along his jaw as he pitches his hips against yours again, then again.   
“Steve,” You gasp softly, your own hips stuttering when he thrusts _just_ so. His mouth pants hot against your ear as you kiss a bruise just below his jaw, feeling the way his throat bobs before he whimpers again, eyes screwed shut tight as he moans, his head thrown back against the cushion of the seat as his hips shudder beneath yours. 

He looks at you with his mouth agape, with a mix of embarrassment and arousal in his gaze, looking like he wants to apologize, explain himself, say _anything_ , but there’s nothing coming forth from his perfect lips. You shift where you’re sitting, one knee carefully pressed into the cushion between his legs, and the other resting against Steve’s thigh, straddling his thigh as you wait for him to speak. Glancing to his lap, you do see the darkened patch of _something_ , your mind connecting the dots quickly as your eyes travel back to his face. You swallow hard, taking in the sight of him with slightly-mussed hair from your fingers in it, his lipstick-smeared and puffy lips, and those baby blue eyes, soft and kind in nature with now an undertone of pure hunger and _heat_ beneath. When you see him beneath you, looking just as wrecked as you feel, the warmth pooled in your belly surges a little, and you feel yourself clenching your thighs against his leg for some semblance of relief. 

Steve picks up on this, surprised further as he looks down where you’ve been straddling his thigh, now settling your weight down against him. “A-Are you...did you _like_ that?” He whispers, trying to will the worry from his voice. You feel your face flush, watching as his face lights up with intrigue and maybe something a little prouder. He shifts his leg up slightly and you can’t hold back the gasp that escapes you, quickly biting into your bottom lip to quiet yourself as you look away, somewhere between embarrassed and bashful. Still, you remain in his lap, clearing your throat as you glance to meet his eye. “I did,” you whisper, and you see his throat bob at your admission, feeling him twitch where your knee rests between his legs, “Can...can I show you something?” 

He nods, and you shift away from his lap, moving to the cushion beside him and settling yourself in the nook between the arm and the back of the chair. Steve looks at you curiously, turning slightly to follow you. “I-I...here,” you clear your throat, trying to find the courage as you take his hand in your own. You lift his hand to your lips, kissing his digits lightly, and you hear him sigh as he resituates himself, sitting with his knees to the fabric of the cushion as he sidles closer in anticipation. 

You kiss the tips of his fingers once more, stalling to embolden yourself. Your eyes flick to his face, and he’s already entirely engrossed as he watches you with that same heat in his gaze, focused on the pink of your cheeks and the way your lightly-stained lips dance against the skin of his fingers. Something in his focus causes you to falter, and you pull his hand from your lips and guide it down to cup at your breast as you push up to meet his palm, not quite what you had intended but good enough to start. He gasps at the touch, and you take his kiss as ransom as you release his hand, allowing him to move of his own accord as you card your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Steve does, to your appreciation, move; his thumb runs lightly over the fabric of your dress as his tongue mimics the movement on your bottom lip, wringing a moan from you that he echoes with fervor against your lips. Biting into his lower lip, you take his free hand from where he’s leaning his weight on it beside your hip, deciding _now or never_ even as your heart pounds hard enough that you’re sure he can feel it.

Steve shifts his weight to his knees, following your lead as he comes to hover over you and kiss down from your lips, to your jaw, to lingering kisses against your neck. You sigh, your head tilting aside to allow him more room at your neck that he greedily takes over, leaving open-mouthed kisses turned bruises in his wake, palming your breast with a gentle squeeze. With his focus elsewhere, you guide his other hand beneath the fabric of your skirt, gasping at the warmth of his soft palm against your skin. He stills himself at your neck with one last peck and you guide him further up your thigh, your legs trembling as his touch finally finds the space between your thighs. “Oh, _God_ ,” Steve moans against your throat, and you nod to encourage him as you release him once more.

His fingertips circle against your undies as a test, a heady whine escaping him in response to the shuddering moan that leaves you. “Y-You, too?” Steve whispers as he lifts his gaze to yours, finding the spot of wetness in the fabric and pressing lightly against it to make his point. You push your hips against his fingers without meaning to, whimpering before you realize what you’re doing. “You feel what you do to me?” 

He nods as his tongue peeks between his lips, wetting them before leaning down over you and kissing you just as bruisingly as he’d been kissing your neck, his fingers circling against that spot once more. Sliding beneath the elastic at your inner thigh, his digits find the same spot, a feat that causes the both of you to groan. Steve seems to understand what to do next, his fingers slowly soothing against you as he pushes one, then two into your heat. You roll your hips against his touch, your hands gripping the fabric and pulling him close, gasping as he curls his fingers and continues to work against you. “That’s a-ah, good.” You encourage with a groan, and his thumb grazes against your clit as he curls his fingers again, your hips unable to stop the way they buck against the motion. 

“Oh, _God_ , doll…” He thumbs at your clit again, and then again, the motion joined with the way his fingers curl inside of you bringing you closer to your boiling point. “Y-You’re so pretty this way,” Steve’s voice is low against your ear, his breath hot at your skin as he pulls back slightly to look at you-- _really_ look at you. Hooded eyes graze down your body, and you look up at him as you pant his name, following the way his gaze passes down your bodice, down to where your skirt is upturned and his fingers work between your thighs. Steve is left breathless as he watches you, a needy whine escaping him as he watches himself work you, and you see a twitch from the once-again prominent bulge at his beltline, near the damp patch from earlier. 

You’re glad this is affecting him as it affects you, and you start to fumble as you ride his fingers, feeling the oncoming wave of your orgasm cresting just below surface-level. “Easy, easy doll,” Steve encourages, his fingers curling in a way that makes you groan and finally you’re tipping over the edge, legs trembling as your hips shudder against his hand. Steve looks down at you slack-jawed, panting alongside you as he watches you come apart. As the trembling eases, Steve’s fingers leave you, his clean hand resting at your outer thigh as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. 

His cheeks are flushed as he shifts to move, a bashful smile at his lips as he stands. “U-Uh...Excuse me.” Steve moves, meeting your eye for a moment before glancing away, spying the open door to your bathroom. He motions to it as a question, and you nod in response, your amused smile finding its match as his own lips curl up. His smile grows as he looks to the floor, taking a few steps into the hallway and shutting the bathroom door behind him. 

You take another second before you stand, the tremble in your legs a little lessened as you come to your feet. You smooth down your skirt, feeling where the fabric was bunched and had begun to wrinkle from your position on the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to mind, not as you touch your slightly-swollen bottom lip, a little laugh escaping you. You glance over to the bathroom door, clearing your throat as you move to put away both of the glasses from the evening. Busying yourself with washing the glasses, you hear the latch to the bathroom open, and you glance to catch Steve’s bashful smile as he looks at you, a little more put together than before. 

“I liked that lip color on you,” You tsk, turning off the faucet and pouting in his direction. He chuckles, absentmindedly rubbing at the bruise you’d kissed into his skin, “It went nicely with my eyes, I think. I may have to borrow it sometime.” 

“You can come to borrow it any time, Steve.” You suggest, shrugging and trying too hard to look innocent as you finish drying the glasses. He stalls for a minute, your name on his lips in a question, and when you finally look back up at him, his brows are raised. 

“Do you...you want me to come around again?” His voice is soft, the question hopeful as it leaves his lips. Smiling, you nod. “I...actually was going to suggest you could s-stay the night.” You shrug a little, but you nibble at your bottom lip despite yourself, smoothing down your (still slightly-wrinkled) skirt as you come back out from behind the kitchen counter to face him.   
“You were?” 

“W-Well, of course,” You nod to the direction of the hallway, where your bedroom is, “My bed’s warm enough for the both of us, and...well, I’d hate to put you out on the street so late at night. If you got lost on your walk back home, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” Though your tone is light, there is a speck of truth within your words, especially as you step closer and take his hand in yours. His smile has that genuine warmth to it, the same that had led you into his arms at the dance hall, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“If you’re so concerned, then..,” He plays along, “I...guess I could stay tonight. For, uhm...your wellbeing, of course.” Steve’s smile widens, the knowing crinkle in the edge of his eye calling you out, even if his lips don’t. “Uh...after you, Doll.” Steve nods you ahead, squeezing your hand as you lead him into the hallway and through the threshold to your bedroom, matching smiles on both of your faces as you turn to shut the door.


End file.
